voices
by matchboxcars
Summary: “Spock?” “Yes” “Do you think the world is perfect?”
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Kirk, Spock, and everything Star Trek isn't mine, though I do have some left over Turkey Bacon if anyone is willing to trade me that for Spock.

Authors Note: I'm on Spring break, and while I could be reading one of the three books that need to be read by the end of this week, I have instead been reading and writing copious amounts of Trek fiction. Oh, and running on the tread mil and rowing on the rowing machine for an hour and a half while watching the second season. So please review, it gives me even more reason to procrastinate!

When Kirk told Spock to bring warm clothes for the nights, the half Vulcan had sighed inwardly, wondering once again just how Kirk had managed to convince him to accompany him on shore leave. Coming from a desert planet, Spock had brought thermal underclothes to compensate for the lower temperature of the ship, but the only other clothes he had in the form that Kirk had specified were two sweaters, one from his mother, the other from the captain himself.

Tucked away in the warmth of his quarters, Spock found himself lethargically packing his bag, reluctant to leave the comfort and calm, wishing Kirk would just allow him to meditate when shore leave arose. But humans were illogical, as Spock well knew, as he knew that Kirk was quite incapable of grasping the idea that Spock would actually want to stay aboard and recuperate the way any normal Vulcan would.

Unfortunately for Spock, he was soon finished packing, despite his pace, and just as he was lowering the flap, the buzzer to his cabin cut sharply into his ears.

"You ready Spock?"

"Yes captain."

Kirk watched as Spock carefully sealed his bag and donned a jacket, struck by the fatigue that had settled into his features. The past month, Kirk realized, had been hell for his first officer and friend. Two landing parties had gone wrong, ending with the deaths of several of the science officers under Spock's command, one of the record rooms for the science labs had been destroyed in a confrontation with a Romulan ship, leaving the first officer to complete several months worth of paper work in a matter of days before they reached there destination, planet Gamma Phyod VI, for a briefing at the newest Starfleet branch. A briefing and some well earned shore leave.

"And his mother", chastised a small voice in Kirk's mind, "She is quite ill"

Indeed, Amanda had suddenly become dangerously anemic, and while the healers on Vulcan were quite efficient in their boosting of the woman's iron levels, she had contracted a high fever she was having difficulty fighting. She was now in her second week of bed rest.

Spock had not told Kirk of this, and, had McCoy not brought him down to Sick Bay with a report on the "through the roof" stress levels of his first officer, Kirk would not have known that, really, anything was wrong. But now, watching Spock slowly lift his bag and walk with a gait that was slightly…hunched, Kirk felt himself fighting down the urge to simply hold Spock, rock him to sleep and tell him that all would be alright. He resigned himself to the next most tolerable thing, a hand laid gently between Spock's shoulders as they exited his quarters, the murmuring of

"I promise, you'll like camping"


	2. Chapter 2

They arrived at their location just shy of twelve AM, and immediately began to set up their tent, ten point two feet from the picnic table, according to Spock. After they had assembled the structure, and unpacked the cook stove and all other necessities, Kirk suggested a hike.

Spock ambled alongside Kirk, as they lazily made their way along the trail, neither in the mood for anything vigorous. They were silent, except to point out certain birds or plants, and even then it was simply a soft murmur, their voices barely above a whisper, as if sharing some sort of secret.

Kirk watched the lines of Spock's body as he moved, noted the way his shoulders appeared to roll up into his neck, the pulling forward of the deltoid, the fingers, painfully arched, not the loose fist they normally are. His face, too, was different, deep lines of heavy thought were carved around his mouth and eyebrows, his lips were thinly drawn, pressed tightly together, his blinking, sluggish.

Jim had never really worried about Spock's mental state, assuming that Spock was all Vulcan in his head and only human in a few physical aspects. But looking at him now, head bowed, eyes holding turbulence just barely at bay, he begins to wonder just how exactly Spock is wired.


	3. Chapter 3

Please Review!!

Jim had always thought that if a campfire were a woman, he would have married her the minute their eyes met. He sat, wrapped in a blanket, entranced by the sharp cackling and the flames, the African dance flames. His eyes met Spock's from over the fire, where the ash flew around in tiny pieces,

"Are you cold?"

"Slightly Captain, but it is controllable"

"Jim, Spock, and get another blanket, this is called shore leave for a reason"

Spock rose fluidly, tucked underneath one of his sweaters and a blanket, and walked into the tent, where he soon reemerged, now under an added sleeping bag. He returned to his place across from Kirk, and placed his hands in front of the fire.

"Better?"

"Yes"

"I love fires"

"Indeed, I had noticed you hold a particular, illogical fascination with the heat source"

Kirk was about to retort when he saw the raised eyebrow, the tiniest hint of humor in the dark eyes, and let out a chuckle.

"I'm illogical, I know"

"For you," Spock said, his gaze downcast, "It is not a failing"

Jim looked over at Spock, knowing the compliment had more than one meaning, knowing that his first officer was going to need some time before he allowed Kirk past the dark fortresses he was accustomed to arming. Knowing that his first officer needed help.

Spock looked over to Jim, questioning his silence.

"Just thinking Spock"

"May I inquire as to what"

"Childhood, my friend, I remember as a kid, the family would all go out camping, grandparents and cousins and aunts and uncles, and there would be campers and tents, we always had a tent, and we would go down to the lake and sit on the beach. My Grandfather had a boat, he would pull this inflatable rocket that two people could sit on, and Sam and I would ride that thing all day, falling off into the water and freezing our butts off when we got back on, singing and laughing. We would always have sandwiches for lunch, and then all the female relatives would take turns cooking dinner, until the last night when the men had to do it. We always had a water balloon fight, and my mother would join in, even though it was mostly just us kids. At night, my cousin would sleep in a tent with me, and we would make shadow creatures on the sides, and then he would fall asleep before I did and I would just listen, Spock, just listen to all the adults talking and playing cards. When you listen to people talk, talk about nothing at all, the world just seems safer, quieter, worth living in."

Jim looked up, Spock was leaning forward, fingers pressed together. When he realized Jim was done, his head raised, and in a voice softer than Kirk was used to hearing, he said,

"Please, continue, you must have many stories"

Something in Kirk that was before hard, gave way, and he was soon lost in the past, lost in childhood wilderness, enlightening Spock to all the pranks one could do with tadpoles, the way Catfish feel around your toes, how to eat hot dogs. He went on into the night. It was one in the morning when they fell asleep, wrapped up in blankets, around a gently glowing campfire that died around three.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Not mine

Author's note: Please review, and thanks to all who reviewed my last story, the encouragement and tips were so helpful!

He awoke to birds rising over the trees, into dawn and gray fog that lingered on the earth. It was cold, a different chill than the night before, one that hung over his conscience with long, spindled fingers.

Spock was still asleep, lying prone on his back with his hands covering his chest. "Like a funeral", Jim thought, as he lay one of his discarded blankets over the slumbering form, and then rekindled the fire. With that, he pulled out a notepad, an old paper one, and scrawled Spock a note.

His legs carried him towards the sun coming up between the trees, and he walked quickly, listening to the soft song of red robins and watching the gray mist dissipate into dew on blades of grass. He had forgotten these things in space. He had forgotten a lot of things.

Spock handed him a mug of coffee and bowl of milk drenched granola when he returned. Spock had not left the fire, but his gaze was directed to the early activity of morning that one could see so well when before a forest of trees.

"Spock?"

"Yes"

"Do you think the world is perfect?"

Spock said nothing, but Jim had not expected him to. He sat with the Vulcan until the day had begun and all was warm. They left their site with a backpack full of food and supplies, and ascended into the forest, neither wanting to be seen by anyone except the other.

There was a safety in the cover of branches and gently streamed sunlight that Spock accepted readily, and whilst Jim napped after they had eaten their lunch, Spock found the company of a tree to meditate under. He could barely maintain the lighter stages, and when he joined Jim after an hour, his fatigue seemed even greater than it had been before.

They hiked for another two hours before turning back, and it was dusk when they returned to the site. The fire was lit and soup cooked over it. Jim watched Spock as he ate, noting the lack of appetite in his companion, the almost imperceptible unsteadiness in his hands.

"Spock"

The Vulcan looked up, his gaze resting on Jim, who gently proceeded,

"Are you alright?"

"Yes"

"No" Jim said, his voice quiet, "No, I don't believe you"

There was then an eternal exhaustion in Spock's features, a knowledge that he didn't have to explain himself, that, for some reason, of all the people that had never understood him, Jim did.

The captain watched his first officer freeze in place, as a deer in the headlights, wondering if he should continue, wondering if he would push his friend over the edge into some inescapable abyss. He left the decision to Spock.

"You can talk to me"

Spock had no expression, but there was such ice to his stance that Jim thought it better to wait, to wait and see what the morning would bring, to wait and let things unfold as they would.

"In time, perhaps, Spock"

Spock gave him a hidden smile; one he used only rarely, a discreet turning of the lips that would never constitute what it meant in human terms. Kirk nodded his head, and rose up off the ground, and began to make hot chocolate. With a yawn he handed Spock a mug, and sat down next to his first officer.

"Did I ever tell you about that time I almost got arrested?"


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Not mine

Authors Note: this is a super short chapter, I know, the next one will be longer, PLEASE REVIEW!!!

He woke Spock at midnight, and, wrapped in blankets and sweaters, they stood outside, completely silent, looking up. The stars looked different from the ground. Time passed in its easy way, and, for a few minutes, they were simply silhouettes in the moonlight, nothing more.

"Jim?"

His voice shattered into the dark, and Kirk felt like it was the first time Spock had spoken since they arrived.

"Yes?"

"The world is as it should be."

Kirk nodded and looked back up to the dizzying clarity of stars they had passed and a moon that lit them in shades of dark silver and poetry.

"Yes, Spock, the world is as it should be."


	6. Chapter 6

Morning brought the drear of rain and the scent of spring into the periphery of the two men. They sat under the canopy of the tent, watching the day pass with heavy weight and shades of gray, waiting for the sun to emerge and change the landscape.

"Jim?"

Kirk turned his gaze towards Spock

"My mother…"

"She's very ill, Spock"

The Vulcan said nothing. Jim watched the contours of Spock's face change, for a moment they had been readable, but now, Jim was left to search the depths of Spock's downcast eyes, the only door that was ever left open.

He carefully laid his hand on Spock's back, the extent of his first officer's distress made clear as a shudder ran under his fingers.

"I should not feel"

"I believe, my friend, that I would be more worried if you didn't"

"I should not feel"

"Oh, Spock"

There was a slight breaking of the day, a movement of time and knowledge that occurred as Spock's body gave way under the light pressure of Jim's hands, as the Vulcan slumped into Kirk's arms whispering harshly to himself,

"I am a Vulcan, I should not feel"

Kirk softly soothed his friend, attempted to reassure him, while at the same time wondering how long it had been since the man had truly slept. Eventually, although the sun had emerged from the morning drizzle, Spock gave way to exhaustion, and fell asleep against Kirk. With a grateful sigh, Jim gently laid Spock down and covered him with blankets, then settled down to keep watch.

Spring presented itself in colorful glory that day, the precipitation leaving a shimmer on everything natural and capable of rebirth. Kirk watched the sky move as a sloth across the sky, cotton ball clouds embodying earth horses and Altarian butterflies.

Spock did not wake for some time, and, watching him sleep was like watching relief manifest itself in an expressionless face; the changes in pallor were marked, lines dissipated from the face and some version of youth restored. But not youth in the sense of innocence, it was a mere telling of age. Spock was not innocent, of all world-weary beings, he was probably the least innocent, the most kind.

Around noon, Jim peered at the face of his first officer, contemplating the degree to which he had underestimated his condition. Spock would always hide behind a lack of emotion. But Jim had proof as he watched the form, before peaceful, now twitching and flinching in some sort of nightmare. He awoke not long after Kirk touched him, his body ramrod straight, eyes snapped wide.

"It was a nightmare, I think"

"My apologies for my weakness"

"It wasn't weakness."

"May I inquire then, as to what it was?"

"No"

"Begging your pardon"

"You, my friend, are exhausted, so, you either tell me every little detail of everything that has been keeping you from sleeping, or you lay right back down and sleep"

"Captain?"

"Mr. Spock"

The Vulcan arched his eyebrow, then, with what was almost a resigned sigh, began silently,

"It has been a trying few weeks"

Jim listened to his first officer stumble along, and realized that no one had ever really talked to Spock about his life, about how he was. There was something about this man that never ceased to amaze him. Spock spoke in a low voice, hesitant, unwilling, but graceful and eloquent all the same. When Jim looked down at Spock's hands, he found them to appear warm, the veins rising in small hills, emerald showing through the flesh, green blood flowing.


	7. Chapter 7

Weariness had not left the complexion of Spock by the time Jim and he had finished talking, but there was a peace, a worried calm that, although it contradicted itself, it also made sense.

It was now dusk, and as small birds flittered into their nests to settle in for the night, the two men were just beginning the day. They ate slowly a meal of bread, fruit, cheese, and for Jim, a piece of ham. Then, in a silence that had permeated their coupled environment for the past hour, they grabbed flashlights, donned their warmest clothes, and set off on a night hike.

They rarely turned their flashlights on, so enamored were they with the stars and the pewter outline of the trees. For Jim, it was a return to his beginnings, to primal nomads and wanderers. For Spock, it was what he had wondered about humans, about half of himself. It was a mixture of hot and cold, beautiful science that had no need for explanation. It was friendship.

They spoke no longer of the first officer's trials, of his concern for his mother and grief over the loss of his officers. They spoke no longer of insomnia. The time had passed, the wounds treated; though not healed. Time would begin the meshing of tissue, invisible scars would form as a reminder of what has passed, what is capable of happening. They spoke no longer of things they could not untie, undo.

Eventually they came upon a clearing, and were halted by the expanse of sky over their heads, and earth under their feet. Jim pointed to a star, a little to their left,

"The enterprise is over there"

"Yes"

"It makes you wonder Spock, being down here, if…"

"Jim. We are not men easily bound to soil beneath our feet. We are more comfortable with the idea of falling."

"Yes, yes I suppose so"

"Perhaps, Jim, the world is perfect."


End file.
